


Blame It On The Brains

by cookiegirl



Category: iZombie (TV)
Genre: ...sort of, Enemy Lovers, F/M, Rough Sex, Something Made Them Do It, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 10:24:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14353542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiegirl/pseuds/cookiegirl
Summary: Liv needs to scratch a particular type of itch, and there's only one person she wants to do it with.





	Blame It On The Brains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agirlnamedtruth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/gifts).



It’s the brain's fault, of course.

Liv should ignore the urges. She should - if she has an ounce of self-preservation or pride - lock herself in her bedroom, crawl under the covers and take care of things herself. And she should stay there until the effects of her latest snack wear off.

But this brain isn't big on self-preservation. It’s focused only on desire. Liv isn't sure how its former owner got anything done if she always felt like this: flushed, desperate, skin itching with need, arousal flooding her veins.

She could call Major, but she’d rather Major didn't hear the things she yearns for right now. And if she's honest, it isn't him that she wants to pin her down, to leave bite marks on her neck, welts on her ass, fingerprint bruises on her hips and tear stains on her cheeks.

She wants a darkness that she has never found in Major.

She rifles through her wardrobe, picks out a dress that's been too short for years. And heels: high, blood-red and glossy. She doesn't have time or patience for subtlety tonight.

\---

The Scratching Post is filled with strangers, and any of them would do. It would be easy to pick someone nameless to give her what she's after. But she doesn't look twice at them. She walks through the bar, and into Blaine’s office, without knocking.

He looks up from his desk, irritation on his face, but it's quickly replaced with surprise. He rakes his gaze up and down her body. His eyes darken; his Adam's apple rises and falls. Then he collects himself, sits back in his chair and raises an eyebrow coolly.

“Liv. Something I can do for you?”

Liv should make up some excuse, should turn and leave. Instead, she steps forward, pushes the papers off Blaine’s desk and sits down on it, then swings her legs over and plants her feet either side of Blaine’s thighs.

“A few things you can do _to_ me,” she says. 

Blaine’ s lip curls in something akin to amusement, and it should make her hate him, but it only turns her on.

“Under the influence, Liv?” 

“Does it matter?” she asks, lightly trailing the spike of one heel over the top of his thigh and down the side of the growing bulge in his pants, satisfied when it hardens further at her touch.

Blaine cocks his head, then shrugs. “Not in the slightest.” He leans forward, starts to graze his fingers up the sides of her thighs. 

“I don't want you to be gentle,” she says. “At all.” 

He doesn't need telling twice: he grips her thighs properly, fingers digging into flesh, almost painful, and she bites down on her lip, heat thrumming through her, finally about to get what she needs.

What this brain needs, rather. Because she wouldn't be here without it, she reminds herself.

Except, as Blaine stands, slams her shoulders down onto the desk, and spreads her thighs wider, she wonders if that's entirely true.


End file.
